


i

by shirotani



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Blood, Emetophilia, Gore, Guro, Like a lot of blood jfc, M/M, Overly descriptive descriptions, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-31
Updated: 2014-07-31
Packaged: 2018-02-11 04:57:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2054511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shirotani/pseuds/shirotani
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kaneki's a little unnerved by Tsukiyama, but mostly the way he looks at him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i

**Author's Note:**

> Ohhhh it is late and basically a drabble for a friend. this is my first fanfiction in a very long time so please forgive how many times I re-use their names in this. And how much I reiterate my fetish for blood ahahahaha.

Kaneki didn’t like their eyes.

The eyes of a ghoul.

 

He felt unnerved by them, pierced by them; that wherever they watched him he would find a stain of blood in place. Or some hole in his body.

It first happened when he caught Tsukiyama staring at his neck for too long, thinking Kaneki wouldn’t notice but Tsukiyama wasn’t as subtle as he thought he was. The way he would smile into the side of Kaneki’s face, or how his breath would slightly stutter in his ear. He could feel the temperature of it, could almost smell the blood lingering from some poor ghoul who was turned into a work of ‘art’ as Tsukiyama would call it. He would catch the way Tsukiyama’s fingertips would twitch and dig into the table when he spent too long thinking about biting into Kaneki’s neck, drinking his blood like wine and savoring his flesh like some butchered piece of steak on a fancy plate.

Kaneki was creeped out by it, imagining Tsukiyama could just move his head slightly to the left and take a chunk out of him with those _perfect teeth_. He would be able to feel the tendons in his neck rip and pop when Tsukiyama would pull away with a heavy breath and open his eyes. Kaneki would stutter and hiccup, fearful of those eyes that sunk to a level of predator beyond any animal. Terrified of _his blood_ oozing around Tsukiyama’s teeth and chin.

 _“Delicieux.”_ Is what’d he say because Tsukiyama is _trash_. An all around eye-sore with too many pretentious suits and ‘fancy’ words.

But Kaneki wouldn’t move his eyes, even when he screamed and kicked himself to the ground, clutching his neck and the blood gushing out of it while his fingers tingled and his head spun. Tsukiyama would command his attention with his eyes alone and it would petrify Kaneki to the point where his screams became malfunctioning sobs in his throat and his stomach would burn with vomit while Tsukiyama would swallow the remaining blood off his lips and tongue.

He would give a little laugh deep in his throat and Kaneki would _tremble_ against the floor because he’d feel it slip into his ears and down, down, _down_.

Tsukiyama was a prick. And he couldn't stand the way his voice rang in his ears.

Kaneki’s pulse would throb when Tsukiyama stands between his legs, presses the point of his shoe ( _en pointe_ ) against the spot between his ribs and so slowly: lower Kaneki’s back to the ground in a form of submission. At this point Kaneki would be lost in the high of too much blood loss and the unsettling pressure in his groin from Tsukiyama’s hushed breath, how everywhere looked like a perfect place for Kaneki’s teeth to sink into, but especially those predatory eyes.

Crazed, excited, _heated_.

Kaneki didn’t remember when the line between fear and arousal was crossed, but his nails dug into the wood, and his back had involuntarily pressed into Tsukiyama’s shoe. That would be the piece to set the game into motion and he’d hear Tsukiyama mutter another fucking _“Tres bien-”_. Kaneki would come short of protest when the laces of Tsukiyama’s shoe drug against his crotch and press on the outline of his dick. And Kaneki would gasp, quietly, because he wasn’t going to admit he was getting hard from the sting of raw flesh on his neck and the quiet dominance Tsukiyama established on his more primal senses.

And he’d watch as Tsukiyama’s lips peeled past his bloody teeth and _grin_ because Kaneki _liked it_.

From there, Tsukiyama would feel his skin prickle, the dizziness in his head tensing his muscles when he flipped Kaneki over. Kaneki’s shirt would ride just above his pants, that pale skin just asking to be broken, bloodied, and bruised. And Tsukiyama would have to physically restrain himself because he was going to wait until Kaneki was _begging_. Until he was drooling blood and spit and tears onto the floor, and his body was wracked with tremors.

He’d feign innocence, bend over Kaneki’s body with his hips pressed against Kaneki’s ass and he’d say " _Kaneki-kun, let me make you feel good.”_  

He’d breath into Kaneki’s ear, reach forward and finger the hole in his throat; feel his body jerk and have nowhere to go.

Tsukiyama had to have his way, the world was a better place when people complied, after all. And when the first string of saliva would slip past Kaneki’s lips and slide down his chin, Tsukiyama would be there to lick it up and savor the faint taste of old blood in the back of Kaneki’s mouth. He’d shudder when Kaneki’s tongue would slide against his own with a clipped sigh and partially opened eyes brimming with tears. He’d watch the deformity of his one eye pulse with the flavor of his own blood passing back and forth between their tongues.

Tsukiyama would use the distraction and get a bit aggressive when ripping Kaneki’s shirt off his body, sitting back on his knees to watch the way Kaneki’s back muscles would ripple and tense under the touch of fresh air.

He wouldn’t notice the way his hips canted into Kaneki’s, subtle rolls and sharp twitches against that delicious body.

Kaneki would reach back, attempt to take Tsukiyama’s hands off his hips, slip on the blood from his palms and let out a pathetic little whimper.

_‘Ple-ase---”_

_Ah._

Tsukiyama would stop lingering on the taste of old blood in his mouth and yank Kaneki’s hips into his lap, watch his head drag against the wood with a sharp cry and bite hard into the meat of his trapeziums.

_Oh **yes**._

The groan that would rip from Tsukiyama’s throat would cut off with a thick swallow before he _tore_ into the heady flavor of Kaneki’s body, hold it in his mouth and turn him until he could force it into Kaneki’s.

There would be a gag, a swallow, and then the subtle _plip plip plip_ of blood and spit dripping out of Kaneki’s mouth; still whimpering, still quietly crying in confusion over what this was doing to him.  

_“Si...c..k….”_

_“Does it make you sick? How addicting you are, Kaneki-kun?”_

Tsukiyama would emphasize it with a firm press of his dick against the curve of Kaneki’s ass, grabbing a handful of it, spreading him and letting him get a good idea of what type of reaction he was raising.

Kaneki would claw at the floor again, hiding his head so Tsukiyama wouldn’t catch hint of the shame that was obvious on his face. So he wouldn’t be able to see the form of his lips as he said:  

 _“Get on with… it. Tsukiyama-”_  

He was tired of this waiting game.

And Tsukiyama would’ve liked to say that a dish this eccentric should be cultivated to its full potential, but the sticky chaffing from the tent in his pants and the _sinful_ way Kaneki ground his hips in unpracticed movements against Tsukiyama’s thighs was telling him that this was enough.

Tsukiyama wanted what was _his_. He started by pressing his fingertips against Kaneki’s spine, slipping them down against the chord and imagining what it would be like to sever it from his body, and fuck the cold shell of Kaneki that way; but he thought better when he watched the fresh droplets of blood rise to the carve of Tsukiyama’s fingers into his lower back. He wanted him alive when he drained him of all his blood, his organs, _his bones_. Kaneki’s moan was harsh, scratching the insides of his throat and once again bringing tears rolling down his cheeks. Tsukiyama sighed through his nose, eyebrows together and eyes slitted with arousal.

He rolled the fabric of Kaneki’s pants down his thighs, straining him from spreading his legs the way his body wanted to. Tsukiyama would hold him in place, slide back with a fluid motion of his body and press his lips to the bloody ridges of Kaneki’s lower back, slipping his tongue between them, drawing a pitched sound from that lithe throat. He’d damp his fingers in the collected puddle of Kaneki’s blood underneath him and without any warning, sink them into his ass and coax his insides open with a sick method. He revelled in the way Kaneki’s back arched, shoulders hunched and head bowed with a dizzying pain that quickly turned into pressure, but not yet pleasure. Tsukiyama wanted him to know exactly what type of addicting Kaneki was. How painful it was to have constant bars between him and his dessert. How fucking _aggravating_ it was to watch it slip through his fingers.

He smacked the remaining blood in his mouth between his tongue and palate, his eyes narrowing in a completely different manner. He sat back once more, unbuttoning his shirt one by one, the seconds it took heavy between the two, Kaneki looking over his shoulder and Tsukiyama licking his lips the more he anticipated what was to come.

He reached the button of his pants and Kaneki took a breath. Held it. Watched as Tsukiyama slid his pants down with a smooth turn of his hips, and how his cock jumped free. Tsukiyama gazed down at his erection with a hazy expression, eyebrows only momentarily turning up when he pressed the pad of his finger against his weeping slit, a quiet little noise muffled behind his lips.

It did things to Kaneki. Influenced a shadowy smoke over his thoughts and illicit a slow roll of his hips against Tsukiyama’s dick.

Tsukiyama would let his jaw slacken a bit, let out a tender _keen_ , and Kaneki would forget all about the throbbing wounds on his body that were slowly healing, and focus solely on the _burning in his abdomen_.

Tsukiyama would glance up from their contact, catch Kaneki’s eyes that were focused elsewhere and looking a lot less teary than he wanted. And he’d keep the misty look in his eyes, be coy, when he leaned forward and coated the inside of his hand in Kaneki’s blood on the floor. He’d absently think about cleaning it up later and maybe soaking a handkerchief in it to indulge in later on when he wrapped his hand around his dick and pumped s-l-o-w-l-y; watch Kaneki’s eyes cringe and widen while he squirmed and shuddered.

_Good._

Tsukiyama had bent down again, Kaneki’s body freezing in anticipation. He bit into Kaneki’s back, just below his shoulderblade and inhaled the once again heady scent that flooded his entire body, each nerve, every vein. He didn’t tear, didn’t rip into him like a fucking _animal_ , and instead sucked hard; drawing a thick amount of blood into his mouth that he could feel seep into the pores of his palate.

Kaneki let out another broken cry Tsukiyama would recall when he watched Kaneki speak to his friends, his beloved _family_ at Anteiku. And he’d remember that Kaneki was wrecked, sobbing and begging underneath him while he tore away at his flesh and his insides.

He drew back once more, holding Kaneki’s hips firmly in place with a sudden intensity as he leaned further down, positioning his lips over his entrance. He glanced up when Kaneki tried to lift himself, his body rigid with horror.

_“Tsukiyama, don’t--!!”_

He let the blood flow from the inside of his mouth into the depths of Kaneki’s body, following his hips in their jerkish movements when Kaneki slipped on his own blood, his jaw connecting with the hardwood floor with a slight _clack_! Grinned into his skin when he heard the guttural wretching noises from above and _watched_ when the crimson tinged bile splattered onto the floor. Kaneki heaved through sobs and gasps that ignited his throat with a painful burn, his ribs contracting violently with each breath.

Tsukiyama didn’t waste a moment in plunging deep into Kaneki with a single, painful, _thrust_ of his hips into the sloppy pressure of Kaneki's ass. Grip the base of Kaneki's dick. And all Kaneki could do was scrabble at the vomit and blood on the floor for purchase as his body tried to expel the sudden intrusion. Tsukiyama shuddered as the blood around his cock, inside Kaneki’s body, quite literally splattered between their connection; dripping down the back of Kaneki’s thighs and soaking into the front of Tsukiyama’s pants. It created a thick, hot, almost sweaty feeling between their skin.

Tsukiyama pursed his lips before breathing again, drool slipping over the arch of his lower lip and dropping onto the taut muscles of Kaneki’s shoulders.

 _“Tsukiyama… Tsukiyama… Slow… Oh God…_ ”  Kaneki wanted to scream and rip his hair out from his scalp. Either the pain or the pleasure at this point set his nerves on fire and rose acid to his stomach again, making him flinch and shudder with each slow press on Tsukiyama’s end.He lifted himself onto his elbows, a steady flow of pants coming from him as he watched his cock twitch and drip with cum between his thighs and still strained jeans. His abs tightened when he lifted one of his arms, reaching behind him to Tsukiyama’s hand and digging his nails into the top of his palm, feeling the skin collect under his nails.

Tsukiyama pulsed inside the tight heat of Kaneki, feeling his body suck him further in with wet sounds and gushing blood _he put there_.A slow hiss between his teeth as he yanked his hand from Kaneki’s nails and slammed his head into the wood floor, watching his eyes flutter and feeling his hips rock against him.

Tsukiyama set a pace, cruel, angry, breathing raggedly and moaning shamelessly into the charged air around them. Kaneki would bite into his finger, claw his pants further down his thighs and growl into his torn flesh. A steady chant of breathing and what strangely resembled Tsukiyama’s name over and over and _over_.

Kaneki’s cheek would be rubbed raw by the time they were done, and his scalp irritated from how relentlessly Tsukiyama clawed at it, still pressing it firmly into the ground.

He’d have no pride by the time Tsukiyama stilled and came inside of him, but he wouldn’t really care. His mind would be too busy trying to sort out what was cum or blood or vomit, and his body would be in aftershocks as he splattered his own release into the puddle of blood beneath him. His wounds would be angry and red, but no longer gushing and open, slowly dissipating back into what would be a shaky memory.

 

And when he would talk he would remember the scratchy burn in his throat from screaming, crying, calling Tsukiyama’s name.

When he would bleed he would remember the heady scent of Tsukiyama’s cologne, and choking on his own body as it slid disgustingly down his throat. He’d remember those dark eyes on his skin, burning holes into his pride and every contradicting thought that didn’t correspond to that desire he would feel.

 

All it would take was Tsukiyama moving his head slightly to the left…

  
  


   

 

_ Oh yes, he definitely did not like the eyes of a ghoul.  _


End file.
